tell me we’ll never get used to it

"How's the leg?"

"Serviceable." Dean says flatly, and bends his knee back to normality even when it barks. "You know how it is: always howls in the rain. Keeps the neighbors up at night."

"I get the picture." Sam says, airing his disapproval thick. "So - what's the skinny you're gonna make attempts to wheedle out from me this time?"

Dean smacks a hand to his heart, leans back in his chair. "Someone drop a nickle to the precinct, I've been bumped off."

Sam doesn't roll his eyes, but he does huff out an amused punch of air. "Dean."

Dean sits up, and straightens his coat collar out. The movement jingles the vials in his pocket, but he scrapes by without his brother cottoning on. "Took a gamble. Surprised to find you here, if I'm crossin' my heart. Figured you might be on your beat, but thought I'd save some heel and check."

His brother's face drops into a nasty scowl, so blistering that Dean almost goes for the shooter at his hip. "Yeah. Suppose you could say I'm riding the pine. Indefinitely."

Dean frowns, "You're benched?"

"Anyone inclined to check papers would note that I'm under investigation on suspicion of bribery." Sam says dully, and he slams his notepad to the desk hard enough that one of his pens makes a successful flit off the desk. He doesn't notice.

Dean lets his brother's temper settle a minute, and gives the room a slant. Some of the coppers' lamps are trained on him and Sam - though most seem inclined to ignore the pair. Dean's made a living on not drawing attention, and is none too pleased to bear the weight of too many crooked eyes. "Did you?" He asks, falling into his track.

Sam's glare coulda peeled shingles off a tenement, and his shoulders hunch defensively. "Go soak your head. Just… certain elements conspiring me to misery. Or boredom." He adds, with a glance at the thick stack of paperwork. "Some anonymous tip that I've taken graft off that gang up North. Azazel's Special Children. It's a load of bunk."

"You always did like your java a little sweet." Dean teases, but inside, he's feeling more than a little unmoored from his dock. That particular slug hits too close to home for his comfort.

"Take a hike." Sam says, but it's more tired than snappish. "It'll blow itself out. They got nothing to substantiate. Just fixin' to burn me up a bit. I'm not crooked enough for the top brass to figure me as reliable, but the Lucifer case bought me a little too much newspaper ink for them to ice me easy. So they're sticking me here to turn to powder." He makes a sweeping gesture at his desk. Nitrogen-fury burning behind his lamps.

Dean whistles between his teeth. "Least my line of work is honest."

Sam snorts and tilts his groomed mug up to the ceiling before he looks back at Dean. "Honest. Sure. 'cept as I seem to recall, you've tried to bribe me near monthly since I joined the force."

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